You're Welcome, Potter
by gryffindanni
Summary: Severus Snape doesn't like James Potter, and James Potter doesn't like him. But could an altercation with a professor in an abandoned corridor change that? AU, friendship fic, no slash.


**A/N: Hey there, loves. So, I always wanted James and Sev to be friends, but I figured there'd have to be something really dramatic to bring them together- here's my interpretation. Not my first fanfic, but first published. Complete, but I may be convinced to write a sequel if there's enough interest. Let me know what you thought! :)**

**Warnings: attempted sexual assault**

Severus Snape really, really hates James Potter.

No one could really blame him; they got off on the wrong foot during the first five minutes of the ride on the Hogwarts Express, and Potter and his cronies have been bullying him every day since—shoves in the hallway, stealing possessions and homework, and of course, calling him that horrid moniker, "_Snivellus_." So much for Hogwarts being a sanctuary from the hell that is his home—it has only been a few months, and already Severus knows the school won't be much different from Spinner's End.

But, surprisingly, there are things that Severus hates more than James Potter, and at the top of of that list is abusers. And of course, those seem to be at Hogwarts too. Figures.

Severus noticed there was something… odd about Professor O'Hare in his first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. Creepy. Discomfiting, even. And nobody with working eyes could miss the way the man looked at Potter, day after day. Potter himself grows more nervous and jumpy with every encounter with the man; it is early December, now, and the Gryffindor is a mess.

So when Severus stumbles across Potter and O'Hare in an abandoned corridor, with Potter shoved against the wall and O'Hare in the act of removing the boy's tie, Severus can't say he's surprised. Whether or not he wants to do anything—that's a different matter entirely.

Potter is chalk white, obviously panicked and yet helpless against the stronger, taller man, and Silenced to boot by the looks of him. The vindictive part of Severus enjoys seeing the normally cocky bully so vulnerable and frightened, but the rest of the him is remembering the latest beating he received from his father, just days before he left for school. He'd been just as scared, just helpless—so what's he supposed to do? Should he stand and watch, or attempt to help, or just leave?

Potter is shaking madly, looking around for some sort of help. His frantically darting gaze falls on Severus, and Severus curses silently; Potter's going to alert O'Hare to Severus's presence, and then who knows what'll happen.

But, surprisingly, Potter does no such thing. In fact, he immediately looks away, stoically closing his eyes even as his lips tremble. His hands clench into fists at his sides as O'Hare starts to unbutton his collar.

That clinches it for Severus—just because Gryffindors are accursedly self-sacrificing doesn't mean he's going to encourage such idiocy. Besides, Potter's eleven, just a kid like Severus when it comes to it. And Severus really, really, really hates adults who hurt kids.

But what to do? He needs to plan; cunning and cleverness is what he acts on, not gut instinct or sentiment or any other ridiculous sort of thing that a _Gryffindor_ would do. Except O'Hare is leaning forward, pressing Potter tight to the wall, and Severus watches Potter shudder hopelessly and knows he's got to be a Gryffindor, there isn't any other option. He pulls his wand—

"_Petrificus_ _Totalus_!"

And O'Hare topples, effectively frozen solid and in a very uncomfortable position on the floor, Severus notes with a rush of vindictive pleasure. Potter looks up in shock, meeting Severus's gaze with wide eyes as his trembling hands fly to re-button his shirt. Severus crooks an eyebrow as he comes forward, flicking his wand. "_Finite_."

Immediately Potter's harsh breathing echoes through the corridor. Severus notes for the first time how badly his yearmate's chest is heaving.

"Um—th-thanks." Potter crouches, picking up his tie, and clears his throat. "Merlin, Severus… thank you."

Severus opens his mouth to say something about Potters and their sick need for constant attention and adulation, but an entirely different sentence escapes him. "Are you okay?"

Potter slings the tie around his neck and tries to retie it, but his hands are jerking too badly to do anything. "Yeah, he… he didn't get very far…"

Abandoning his pathetic attempt to fix his tie, Potter drops his head into his hands, rubbing fiercely at his eyes under his glasses. He looks so vulnerable, Severus is uncomfortably sympathetic.

"Potter…"

Potter lets out a thin sob. "Go ahead and say something, if you're going to—"

"I'm not."

"You should," Potter says miserably. "I've been a real prat."

"No arguments there," Severus retorts, then shifts uncomfortably. "I don't like adults who hurt kids."

Potter gives him a curious look through his fingers, then sniffs, lowering his hands and swiping under his nose. "Well… um…"

Severus rolls his eyes and steps forward. "Hold still, you idiot." He hurriedly fixes Potter's tie without making eye contact, then looks down at the frozen man on the floor.

"What're we gonna do with him?" Potter asks timidly. Severus purses his lips and points at the nearest classroom door.

"Open that for me, will you?"

Potter swiftly turns for the door—he's so rattled, he looks as though he will do anything Severus asks him to, and Severus files that away for later use—and yanks it open.

"_Mobilicorpus_." Ignoring the venomous look his professor shoots him, Severus levitates the man into the room and then shuts the door. "Wait here, I'll be right back."

"But—"

"Wait here," Severus orders firmly, and takes off down the corridor at a jog. A few minutes later he is outside Professor McGonagall's office door, and he knocks loudly.

"Come in."

Severus pokes his head hesitantly in—McGonagall is Head of Gryffindor, and doesn't like him all that much. "Professor?"

McGonagall looks up and raises a thin eyebrow. "Yes, Snape, what is it?"

"I just happened upon Professor O'Hare sexually assaulting James Potter in the hallway, so I put him in a Full-Body Bind—O'Hare, not Potter—and stuck him in an empty classroom but I figured I'd better fetch you so you can handle it, since I hexed a teacher and all…"

McGonagall has jolted to her feet, face white, mouth a thin line. "Show me," she commands. Severus leads the way back to Potter, mentally promising himself that he'll never do anything to _really_ hurt any of this woman's precious lions.

Potter, still rather disheveled, looks up when Severus and McGonagall approach, and his lips tremble again.

"Are you all right, Potter?" McGonagall asks, in a quiet, gentle voice so unlike her usual clipped tones. Severus stands by, expecting Potter to immediately start to cry, or otherwise spin the situation in his favor.

Again, he is surprised. Potter straightens up quickly, clearing his throat and squaring his shoulders. "I'm fine, Professor," he says.

Severus is learning all kinds of things about James Potter today.

"Where's Professor O'Hare?" McGonagall asks, and Severus quickly points to the appropriate door before Potter has to. When McGonagall moves toward it, Severus looks back to Potter.

"You should let her take you to Pomfrey," he suggests, though he isn't sure why. It's not like he cares or anything. Maybe it's because he would have given anything for an adult to look after him, after his father finished with him. Potter shakes his head.

"He didn't hurt me," he mumbles. Severus rolls his eyes. Typical _Gryffindor_ stubbornness.

McGonagall exits a moment later, Professor O'Hare on her heels, and James shrinks back a few steps, gulping. Severus doesn't miss the malevolent glare the man shoots at the both of them before he pulls his mouth into a sickeningly wide grin.

"Now, what's this about?" O'Hare asks jovially. "I think there's been a bit of a misunderstanding, boys—"

"I know what I saw," Severus interrupts coolly, turning to McGonagall. "Professor, he had Potter pinned to the wall, he was unbuttoning his collar—take me to Dumbledore if you don't believe me, I'll give him the memory—"

"He's telling the truth," Potter says, voice impossibly small. He's half-hiding behind Severus, avoiding O'Hare's gaze best he can, and Severus stays still, loath to begrudge him this little bit of shelter after his earlier sacrifice. _Who's being a Gryffindor now?_ "Please, Professor, he grabbed me, he wouldn't let me go anywhere…"

The color and composure are both slipping rapidly from O'Hare's face, and Severus, watching the man closely, sees him slip his wand from his sleeve and point it surreptitiously at Potter.

Severus shoves Potter out of the way just in time; he stumbles and hits the ground on his side, and the spell cracks into the stone wall above him, sending red sparks flying. Triumphantly, Severus crooks an eyebrow. He's just redeemed himself a little; no Gryffindor would have noticed such a subtle threat in time, that's Slytherin alertness at its finest. And he got to push Potter, on top of that!

"What was that, Professor?" he sneers, even as he extends a hand to help a wide-eyed Potter back to his feet. "_Obliviate_? _Confundus_?"

O'Hare's face contorts with fury, but McGonagall's eyes are flashing fire, and next moment she has O'Hare bound with a nonverbal _Incarcerous_.

"Off to the Headmaster's office, then, boys," she says calmly, though her nostrils are flared and her mouth is a thin line. "We'll get all this straightened right out."

Potter gives Severus a thankful little smile as they set off down the corridor. Severus pretends he doesn't see.

An hour later, after memories are viewed and Dumbledore blows out all his office windows in anger and they are assured that Professor O'Hare will be removed from the school before the day is out, Severus and Potter are walking down Dumbledore's spiral staircase and out into the corridor. Potter's hands are still shaking.

"You really should have Pomfrey give you a calming draught," Severus says, glancing askance at him. Potter looks up with wrinkled forehead.

"I already said I wasn't hurt."

"I know," says Severus with a little shrug, "but you're a little shaken up, and they help even if you aren't hurt."

Potter looks down at his hands. "I do feel a little sick," he mumbles.

"You need the draught," Severus decides firmly, stopping the slightly taller boy with a firm grip on his shoulder. "Let's go."

He steers Potter down an adjacent corridor, still wondering why in the world he cares. He knows tomorrow Potter and his pack will be back to mercilessly tormenting him, but at the same time… he's still so pale, and Severus is still wondering if that's what he looks like, right before his father starts beating him.

"Madam Pomfrey?" Severus goes in first, Potter seeming suddenly shy. "Could you give Potter here a calming draught?"

The matron bustles over, her kind face crinkled in concern. She gives Potter a cursory once-over, and steps a little closer, tipping up his chin to look into his eyes. "Potter? Are you all right, dear?"

Potter ducks his head, away from her touch, and steps back. "I'm f-fine, ma'am, I just…"

He heaves a breath, swipes angrily at his eyes. Severus watches interestedly. Is he finally going to fall apart? That'd be something to watch.

But no, Gryffindor bravery—_stupidity_—comes through. Potter straightens his shoulders and clears his throat, and Severus decides he'll pretend he can't see the slight dampness in his eyes. "I'm not hurt, but can… can I just have the draught, please?"

Madam Pomfrey purses her lips, but when no explanation seems forthcoming, she walks away and returns with a small potion bottle. "This is all you need?" she presses.

"Yes ma'am. Thank you." Potter uncorks the bottle with a little difficulty and tips it back, grimacing at the taste and handing the empty vial back over.

"You're welcome, dear. Let me know if you need anything else."

"Yes ma'am." Potter leads the way out, steps quick and purposeful. Severus gets the feeling he doesn't want anyone to see him here. He doesn't blame him, either.

"Better?" Why is he still _talking_?

Potter shrugs. "A little. I think I'm just going to go to bed."

It's barely four in the afternoon, but Severus wisely chooses not to point that out. They continue down the corridor in silence, until Potter stops beside a portrait of a ridiculously fat woman in a frilly pink dress. "Well, um—I guess I'll see you later."

Severus nods stiffly. "Yeah." He'll probably be staring down the end of Potter's wand. He turns to go without another word, but Potter stops him in his tracks.

"You shouldn't have helped me like that. I didn't deserve it, not from you. But… thank you, Severus."

Severus looks over his shoulder in surprise, but Potter looks sincere, blushing furiously and shuffling his feet. And Severus's Gryffindorness wins out (just one more time, he promises himself, next time he'll really flay Potter raw with insults).

"You're welcome, Potter."

They share a tentative smile.


End file.
